Beauty of the Dark
by bigbadamon
Summary: Post Season One AU. Damon's destroyed to find out Katherine was never in the tomb, that she's been living the high life while he's dedicated his existence in "saving" her. But when he comes back to Mystic Falls to find Elena Gilbert, a dead ringer for Katherine, he can't help himself, and Damon Salvatore always gets what he wants. DARK THEMES READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
1. Temptation

**author's note ;** so i'm trying a theme i enjoy reading and it's much darker then what i've done in the past. **TRIGGER WARNINGS:** blood, gore, sexual harassment. **SHOUTOUT** to my homie who helped edit this: Kris ( ** .com** )

**disclaimer:** unfortunately, i do not own the vampire diaries or any of its characters.

* * *

_Oh, up down, turn around, please don't let me hit the ground._

_Tonight I think I'll walk alone, _

_find my soul as I go home._

_Temptation - Moby_

* * *

A lean body laid in the middle of Wickery Bridge, azure hues focused up at the sky as dark as his obsidian hair while he awaited his next meal. It was quiet, with only the rustling of leaves and the sound of rippling water to fill the empty vacuum around the infamous Damon Salvatore, who had returned to the small town three months early for the comet.

The stars, burning as bright as his eyes, nearly distracted him from his purpose of laying down on a road littered with gravel, undoubtedly scuffing his leather jacket. That was, until he heard approaching footsteps, his attention turning to see a female making her way towards him, her head tilted down towards her shoes.

Moving up from the ground at a supernatural speed, he appeared in front of her, eyes narrowed as they observed olive skin and long, hazelnut hair. Frightened by the sudden appearance, the female stumbled backwards, doe eyes piercing icy orbs. Mouth gaping open, Damon spoke.

"Katherine?" he accused, confusion evident in bright eyes as they swept over the lithe body once more.

The girl swept a long piece of her hair behind her ear, clueless expression reflecting his.

"I'm Elena. Elena Gilbert," she corrected in a wary tone. In a town that had no more than eighteen hundred people in it, it was rare to see an unfamiliar face. "You know, it's a little creepy to find a man who was lying in the middle of the road near midnight," she stated, crossing her arms.

Oh, it was all too easy for Damon to accept this was not his beloved Katherine—she seemed so wary and skittish, and while she attempted to speak with a solid tone, he could hear it shake. She was scared. The thought made him smirk wickedly towards Elena.

"It's called star-gazing, princess. Some would argue it's even creepier to stumble across a girl near midnight, also known as curfew," he retorted coolly while he slowly began to approach her. Blood rushed to her cheeks and he felt his gums ache as the idea of tilting her head back and sinking his fangs into her throat flitted through his mind. However, his eyes wavered over her long olive legs, and suddenly wasn't hungry for _just_ blood.

"I'm meeting my ride here," she said defensively, glowering at the man, though he could only smile savagely at her in response. "Who are you?" she demanded.

All things aside, the man was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome: onyx hair, bright eyes, clad in a leather jacket and black jeans—it made her tremble. He looked like the Devil, and he may as well could be the way his eyes were glinting dangerously and he began approaching her once more. While instinct wanted her to run, or at least step back, she was frozen to the spot.

Reaching down, he grasped her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss her knuckles, and his dark expression shifted into something…sweeter.

"Damon Salvatore's the name," he replied in a sultry tone that had Elena blushing once more. Still holding her hand with a gentle grasp, he canted his head to gaze softly at her. "Now who abandons such a beautiful face and forces her to walk all the way to Wickery Bridge to get a ride?" he practically purred, reaching up to stroke her cheek.

Stranger danger is hard to consider when the stranger is handsome.

Slowly, a smirk fluttered across Elena's soft lips. The alcohol was still in her system from the bonfire, and the man's intoxicating, woodsy scent was making her senses become damn near useless. It was a strange effect, and instead of being drunk, it felt more like being high,

"Why do you assume I was ditched?" she replied, dark gaze meeting his.

"Well, perhaps you can clear up the reason why you're out here?" he suggested, smirking back at her.

"My…boyfriend?" That sounded convincing. "We were at a party and the entire time it's 'I love you' and 'you're perfect', and he imagines us with a big house here in Mystic Falls with kids and a lawn mower," she sighed.

Damon shuffled closer, but she didn't seem to care, her eyes unwavering while they bored into his. "That doesn't sound like a very exciting future," he drawled, frowning.

"It's not! I don't want to live in this town my entire life like my parents and pretend like we live in some form of utopia when there's a world out there—a world I want to see: good or bad. I want something with adventure and passion and—"

"Danger?" Damon murmured into her ear, his fingers lingering on her hips.

Once more, Elena was smirking, a night of _chugging_ cheap beer encouraging her to reach up and brush her fingers over his solid chest, covered by a tight black shirt.

"Are you dangerous, Damon?"

Fucking tease. The vampire licked his lips slowly, briefly acknowledging the way Elena's bourbon eyes becoming very interested in the actions of his tongue. He leaned forward, close enough where he could feel her warm, alcohol-scented breath. It was overwhelming; it was downright intoxicating to be in the presence of someone who looked just like the love of his life, and yet was so painstakingly different. He knew she wasn't Katherine, but his lips still moved forward in attempt to kiss her like she was—to leave a drugging kiss onto her mouth until she couldn't breathe. His lips brushed hers in the most tentative of touches, one that involved such a lack of friction, it could barely be called a kiss.

And all because right then the sound of tires began to roll over the gravel, pulling Damon out of a sense of blindness and into a more alert position. He turned, noticing headlights approaching in the distance. Turning his attention back to Elena who was staring at him with wide eyes, his hands squeezed her waist, conflicted with the option to steal her away for himself, compel her to forget—or kill her.

If he was to return to this town, he couldn't have this Katherine-look-alike running around, teasing him. It simply wasn't fair. Besides, by the speed in which the oncoming vehicle was approaching, he didn't think Elena's father would care if he found his drunk, flirtatious daughter in the bottom of the lake just beneath the bridge. As the car got closer, Damon could depict a firm voice confirming his thoughts: _I'm going to kill her for ruining family night to get drunk and have us drive all the way out here to pick her up._

However, Damon was feeling rather lazy—or perhaps that's what humanity feels like—and killing Elena didn't seem as pleasing as it did before he knew her name.

Elena turned to look at her father through the front window of his Suburban, and when she peered back to apologize to the man, he was gone.

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**author's note ;** please comment and let me know if you liked this. please and thank you c:


	2. Shattered

**author's note ;** so i usually update in sets of two so this chapter is coming out fairy quick after the first and then there will probably be a long gap and then chapter's three and four will come out almost back to back. at least, i hope that's how it goes. anyways. **#**shoutout goes to kris who edits my shit. If you have a tumblr, follow her. but also a shoutout to Ragna01 for her great advice.

**disclaimer ;** believe me, i fucking wished i owned ian and nina and the vampire diaries.

* * *

_Take me home to my heart,_

_let me go and I will run,_

_I will not be silent; _

_all this time spent in vain,_

_wasted years, wasted gain._

_All is lost, _

_hope remains and this war's not over._

_Shattered - Trading Yesterday_

* * *

**Two Months Later**

The amber liquid slid down his throat, leaving a thick trail of acid that was quick to fade into a pleasurable ache in the vampire's mouth. He suckled the poisonous medicine until the substance had disappeared from his glass entirely. Finally, after the ninth or thirteenth glass, Damon's senses began to dull and the anger he was feeling during that week had finally became the somber depression that Bourbon could drag you into.

Two months had gone by since the night Damon discovered Katherine had a doppelganger. Paranoia and curiosity ate at Damon until he broke into the high school to retrieve her files.

Elena Marie Gilbert, born June 22nd, was entering her junior year of high school. That was the _second_ most surprising thing he'd learned within the last month. When he had met her, she seemed so mature and older and she was…sexy. Of course, she did have an eerie resemblance to Katherine Pierce, who, technically, was sixteen. She lived on 2104 Maple Street with her two parents and younger brother, Jeremy Gilbert. As far as grades were concerned, Elena seemed to excel in academics—a few notes from her teachers suggested she should be moved up a grade.

All in all, Damon had been…_impressed_ by the doe eyed beauty, but he held no interest in veering away from his original plan, no matter how satisfying the possible corruption could have been. He was scarce in public, instead keeping himself hidden in the Salvatore Boarding House and escaping into the woods to feed on the hikers and drunken students that would wander into secluded regions.

But over a month had passed since he'd seen Elena Gilbert and July had come pleasantly quick. As interesting as this run in with the doppelganger was, Damon was still focused primarily on releasing Katherine from the tomb. And in order to do so, he still needed a few items: the crystal and a witch. The crystal he had in a safe place, but finding a witch would be difficult.

Going to Anna seemed like a good idea at the time—oh how wrong he was.

Extending a hand, Damon motioned for the bartender, while his free hand held his empty glass up. When his glass was filled nearly to the brim, Damon smirked coolly at the barkeep, thankful for the extra dose. He'd have to remember the humble man when he became hungry.

In one burning gulp, Damon had removed half of the glass's content. It was then that the people around him began to move slower and everything felt numb. He leaned his forehead on his fingers, the anger that had been swelling inside of him slowly beginning to subside.

That was, until a familiar scent drafted through the room.

Vanilla. Honey. The only difference would be it lacked the scent of cheap beer and burning wood. He didn't want to turn around; he would snap if he turned around, but his unbeaten heart, or what was left of it, obliterated when he heard the bubbly laugh of none other than Elena Gilbert—and suddenly, Anna's voice was in his mind.

_I expected you to be with Katherine, not loitering around Mystic Falls_.

Of course, Kitty Kat Pierce could deceive just about anyone, and perhaps Damon should have seen it coming, but it hurt like hell to know while he was planning to "save" his true love, she was rendezvousing in the Caribbean. The _truth_ was while Damon had believed he was one step ahead to have all of the vampires placed in the tomb, Katherine had been five steps ahead.

The man let the rest of his drink slide down his throat, tasting like bleach, and, at this point, Damon wished it was. Sure, it wouldn't kill him, but it'd put him out of his misery if for a moment. Begrudgingly, Damon turned to glance over his shoulder at Elena. She stood by the pool table, surrounded by two other females around the same age.

She _could_ be Katherine, oh it was a dangerous possibility. But as he peered closer, he noticed the heat swell in her cheeks. He'd turned for the purpose of glaring at her, to perhaps gain her attention so he could take out all of his frustration on her as if she was Katherine. Instead, he sat, staring almost as if he was in awe, lips parted.

No, she couldn't be used as a _replacement_ for Katherine—she was much too innocent, and Damon loved that about this Elena Gilbert. A distraction was what he needed, and she was perfect.

The anger that had quickly began to rise faded once more, and his bitter expression was replaced by a cool smirk. He waited patiently; thirty minutes had gone by before the two girls who had arrived with Elena—Bonnie and Caroline—excused themselves to go to the restroom, leaving the doe eyed innocent leaning over a pool table.

Strong hand settled on her hips from behind, moving her further down towards the pool table. A gasp slipped out from between soft lips, and when she turned to possibly backhand the man who had the audacity to touch her, she was met with bright cerulean eyes. Familiar and yet she couldn't identify who the raven haired man in front of her was.

That was until he whispered softly to her.

"Your friends should stop leaving you alone so often—what if someone were to take you?" his mouth brushed her ear and his name hit her like a train.

_Damon Salvatore's the name._

A sheepish grin came to her lips. Unlike their drunken encounter the two months prior where he was met with a confident woman, he was being exposed to the innocent girl she was. It only seemed to excite the beast inside him.

He was leaning her down across the table once more, his hand extending out mimic the position of her fingers as she positioned her aim. The opposite hand moved from her waist to wrap around her fingers at the base of the cue.

"You have a nice aim, but it's all about the _thrust_," he purred, hips pressed against hers. He moved the cue between their fingers before thrusting the stick forward, striking the white ball. The vampire smirked as the black eight fell into the pocket.

He immediately stepped back from Elena, moving to sit on the edge of the pool table. He grinned, fawning a pleasant expression. She placed the cue down on the table, both hands running through her hair nervously.

"What are you doing here?" she inquired, laughing gently. The killer only shrugged his shoulders.

"It's the town tavern, doesn't everyone come here to drink?" he arched a brow at her, arms folded across his chest. She only nodded, obviously timid in his presence. More than that, she looked almost submissive in a way, her face tilted towards the ground. Images of her on her knees with her lips around his cock flashed through his mind, and he was forced to bite back a groan.

"I was actually hoping to see you again," he lied, moving off the table to step closer to her. While his intentions were crude, his eyes only perceived pure sincerity. She looked up at him with wide, astonished eyes. She was blushing a dark shade of red, causing him to smirk.

"Why?" she demanded, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear. He only shrugged his shoulders.

"You're very hard to forget and it's become a problem for me—to constantly have you on my mind," he drawled, eyes narrowing almost accusingly, as if she had done something _wrong_. Her blush only seemed to darken fifty shades, and while it was all so satisfying to fluster the youth, he's not against compelling the confidence out of her.

Fortunately, she was more than willing to reply.

She was pouting—fucking _tease_—while her eyes expressed heavy amusement. What she internally mocking him? "I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble, Mr. Salvatore. Perhaps I can make it up to you?" she smirked and her blush faded. Damon's lips twitched, satisfied at her shift in mood. Oh, yes, she would be a perfect distraction.

"Hm," he purred, raising a hand to stroke his lower lip thoughtfully, drawing her attention deliberately to his mouth. "Take a walk with me," he demanded, hand dropping back to his side as he took a step in her direction.

She seems confused. Perhaps she was expecting him to be more forward, but he had plans for her, and such a scheme included them to be alone. Glancing outside, she was no doubt observing that it was dark out—perhaps she was wary of him.

_Good_.

Or maybe she just needed more coaxing. Reaching forward, his hands moved over her waist while his body shuffled closer, lips coming to her ear.

"C'mon, Elena," he drawled, feeling her tremble as his fingers settled over the sliver of skin exposed beneath them hem of her shirt, "you owe me, remember? It's been a _very_ long two months; I just wanna know you." He was proud of himself—he sounded so convincing, purring into her ear and feeling her skin. When he heard her sigh, he knew he had won, and her response brought a wolfish grin to his lips.

"Okay."

* * *

Damon really wasn't a fan of mundane conversation of boring, small town lives and the weather, but the skirt that Elena wore gave him the incentive to take this slow. She hadn't told him anything he hadn't found out himself, which meant he had to make an effort to seem surprised or interested when she mentioned her school or her family.

The only thing that truly caught his attention was when she mentioned she was adopted and voiced her evident disinterest in finding out who her real parents were. There was a long pause as they continued loitering through the park before Elena, to his surprise, broke the silence.

"So what about you?" she inquired, and, of course, he was forced to put even more useless effort into creating a clever façade for himself.

"I was born and raised here but left with my Uncle Zac when I was sixteen after my father died. My mother died when I was very young, a year or so after she gave birth to my brother, who was sent to boarding school. I was homeschooled most of my life until I went off to college. My uncle, however, came back to look after the Salvatore Boarding House," he shrugged, noticing her sympathetic expression. Elena didn't seem like a person who's had to deal with any tragic deaths, and her family records would confirm she hadn't had anyone within her immediate family pass away. Sighing softly, he conveyed faux uncomfortableness and quickly changed the subject. "I've recently been informed rumors have been spread that it's haunted—do you believe them?" the vampire smirked, nudging Elena playfully. She giggled, practically leaning against him for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders.

"It's a big, old house in the middle of the woods. I've never really been inside, but a friend of mine snuck inside and got attacked by some animal. It was a pretty nasty bite," she frowned, glancing down at her shoes, completely oblivious to the smirking beast she was walking with.

Ah, yes—Damon remembered. A scrawny kid, who smelt like he'd been puffing a joint since he woke up, had come into Damon's home rather loudly. He was a nice little snack, and his blood definitely gave Damon a nice buzz.

"That's the dog. I guess I'm sorry he got hurt, but he _was_ trespassing," Damon said pointedly and Elena was laughing once more.

God, she was driving him fucking insane. It was humiliating really, to be so bewitched by someone so ordinary and young. He may have underestimated the abilities of this Elena Gilbert—perhaps she wasn't so ordinary, maybe she was a fucking hellcat that needed to be released from her cage.

So lost in his thoughts on her, he stopped beneath one of the street lamps that highlighted the pathway. His eyes were dark as they bored into Elena who was staring back at him with an innocent expression. He was still, eyes unwavering before he noticed her take a step closer, moving onto her toes to brush her lips against his.

And suddenly, it felt like the bridge all over again—the light, teasing kiss that drove him mad. He couldn't take it anymore. Reaching up, his fingers tangled in her dark hair, mouth consuming hers. He heard her gasp and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. It took a brief minute, but he soon felt her fingers in his hair, tugging sharply as she kissed him back fiercely.

A small growl came from his throat and he moved to push her against the streetlamp, mouth parting from hers to travel down her throat, nibbling on her skin until she was moaning. His feet captured her skin in a gentle bite, a small cry escaping Elena. The smell of blood—_her_ blood—became stronger, and as he glanced down, he noticed he'd left a small love bite on her olive skin. Fangs slid from his gums as he parted from her neck, his breathing becoming heavy.

Slowly, he lifted his face to hers, allowing her to see the monstrous features of a true killer before they faded away. Her mouth parted wide, and she looked like she was about to scream. Reaching up, he cupped her face, eyes boring into hers.

"Hush—everything's alright," he cooed, stroking her cheeks. He waited patiently as her heart decelerated. She glanced over him warily, obviously still frightened by what she had seen. "Everything's going to be alright, Elena, do you know why?" he demanded as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

She shook her head and he smirked, a wicked expression crossing his face. He didn't need to compel her—that would be much too easy. Besides, he would enjoy the slow accommodation to the lifestyle he was dragging her into.

"I've decided I'm going to keep you."

* * *

**author's note ;** well that escalated quickly, hm? fair warning, i intend to make the next chapter very smutty. ( funfact: the inspiration for this fic came from rewatching season one and seeing damon and caroline's relationship. ) you should always review because let's be real how could you nOT? xx. king


	3. Do I Wanna Know

**author's note ;** okay wow -wipes brow- so, I have a lot of muse for this story, but school and I just had no muse for the smut at the end, and _that_ is what took twenty-seven fucking years to write. But I haven't disappeared, lovelies, and I hope you haven't either.

**disclaimer.** I own nothing.

* * *

_So have you got the guts?  
Been wonderin' if your heart's still open,  
and if so I wanna know what time it shuts.  
Simmer down and pucker up;  
I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I'm constantly on the cusp  
of trying to kiss you.  
I don't know if you feel the same as I do._

_Do I Wanna Know - Arctic Monkeys_

* * *

As soon as the words spilled out of his mouth, he could feel the tremor run through Elena Gilbert's body, and he moved closer, his chest pressed against hers while his head dipped down to nuzzle her neck. He felt her body go rigid, his hands skimming up her sides to claw over her torso. She was quiet, refusing to speak, but her heart was pounding so fast he worried she might go into cardiac arrest.

He frowned. _That_ would be an unfortunate event. His hands slid back down to her hips and he lifted his head to press his forehead against hers, once more hushing her.

"Ssh," he cooed, kissing her unresponsive mouth tenderly. "I'm telling you, Elena, I'm not going to hurt you—too much—I just wanna have some fun with you, that's all," he spoke patiently, pressing kisses over her cheek to her ear where he nibbled on her lobe, coaxing a moan to come from his reluctant little pet. When he pulled back, she still looked frightened, but he was satisfied to see she wasn't on the brim of crying—it was such a buzz kill when they cried.

"Are you going to kill me?" she demanded in a cracked tone, her jaw clenched. _Oh_—well wasn't she just full of surprises. Damon, you fool, she's not _frightened_ of you, she's angry. Rightfully so, but she'd be singing a different tune by the end of the week.

"I just said I wasn't going to hurt you."

"I've never portrayed death as _punishment_," she retorted coolly.

A wicked smirk came across his face. "I'll think about it," he purred before he crashed his mouth against hers once more. This time, he felt her struggle. She attempted to pry his hands from her waist with no prevail and then began to push against his chest while he sucked on her lower lip. When his tongue flickered out to brush over her mouth, he felt her blows begin to soften, and, slowly, her hands came to still over his chest.

Oh, this entire situation was utterly fucked up. She was clinging to his shirt, fisting the dark fabric as her mouth began to respond violently to his, tongue colliding with his in a fight for dominance—for _power_. The vampire's hands rose to cup her face, biting down on her lower lip sharply before he pulled back. His eyes, as dark as coals, bored down into hers, acknowledging that her swollen lower lip had a small bead of blood on it. Leaning forward, he kept his eyes on hers as his tongue flickered out to taste her, eyes once more becoming crimson and his fangs withdrew from his gums.

His mouth moved to her ear, sucking on her lobe before he spoke to her in a dangerously soft tone.

"You taste so fucking good, Elena," he groaned. Reluctantly, a moan slipped past her lips as his tongue moved over the patch of skin beneath her ear.

Soon, he was leaning back to look her in the eye once more, a hand shooting up to seize her chin in a fierce grip.

"I want _more_," he growled, blunt teeth raking over his lower lip hungrily. "So this is what we're gonna do: you're gonna text your friends, tell them you met someone and you have a ride home. Then, we're gonna walk back to my car, and you _will_ do your best to look relaxed and happy before we get into my car and I'll take us back to my place where I'm gonna have you screamin'," he crooned, smirking as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Got it?" he demanded, vampyric features fading.

Swallowing loudly, she nodded hastily, much to his satisfaction. He took a step back from her, allowing her to calm down, hands shoved into his pockets patiently. He watched as she leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees and gulping at the air as if she were drowning. It took a long couple of minutes, but she was soon breathing steadily, looking as calm as any innocent human could in this specific situation. Her eyes lifted to meet his impassive gaze, still until he slowly withdrew a hand from his pocket and held it out to her.

Cautiously, she slipped her hand into his and was immediately jolted forward, moving into his chest as he curled an arm around her waist, finger slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to tease her skin. He grinned wickedly into her hair, hearing her gasp softly at his touch.

"Come," he whispered before leading her away from the park and back towards The Grill.

The drive back was eerily quiet, and when Elena glanced over at Damon, she couldn't read his expression. Given the current situation, Elena couldn't help but think that he had to be doing this for _some_ reason other than boredom or just because he was some cruel, heartless fiend. And, again, that being said, she was still afraid of him—afraid of what he might be planning to do to her when they got back to his home. A text had been sent to Bonnie and Caroline both, informing them she had met a guy at the Grill and they were walking back to her place, while a text sent to Elena's mother would say she was going to spend the night at Bonnie's.

It didn't take long to get out of the town area, but Damon had not driven towards the more communal area of Mystic Falls where the neighborhoods were located nor towards the apartment buildings. She didn't know what to expect with this man: a chic, classic apartment looking over the town or an underground dungeon with chains and coffins. Instead, Damon was driving into the woods—just outside of town where larger plots of land were purchased for large estates like the Lockwood Mansion.

Mystic Falls in and of itself was not very big, so it took all of five minutes for the Camaro to pull up to what Elena recognized as the old Salvatore Boarding House. Elena was not being able to help the subtle smirk that came to her lips as he arrived at the infamous mansion in the woods.

The house itself didn't look old, even though it had been built in the mid-to-late fifties, but the placement of the building always gave it an unnerving aura—that and it was known that about four or five people had died in the home. What was even _more_ unnerving about it was thinking back on those stories about Tyler Lockwood and how he got bit; the stories about the wolf that lived inside the haunted boarding house—it was unnerving to know Elena was in the jaws of the beast.

"What are you smirking at?"

Elena was pulled from her thoughts as she heard Damon's voice. His tone was hard, no emotion found laced within them, but when she turned—fully expecting to see him glaring—the bastard looked rather amused, as if he knew what she was thinking. Who knew, he probably did. She made a mental note to ask him later.

_No!_

Reality came snapping back at her like an elastic band, hitting her between the eyes as she reminded herself he had took her to his home unwillingly. He must have noticed her shift in mood because, with a speed that made her nauseous, she was suddenly pressed against the side of his car, wide eyes staring up at him.

"Come," he commanded as he led her up to the large front, wooden door.

The Salvatore Boarding House looked as historic inside as it did outside. Wooden walls and floors with soft, Persian rugs thrown over the floorboards, and beautiful portraits from different ages and cultures hung on the wall. Elena thought of the Lockwood mansion, chic and modern, with artifacts on display like a museum. Rustic and old-fashioned, the home reminded her of an antique store.

The devil beside her was gleaming with pride at her obvious fascination in his home. For decades, he's raided auctions and antique stores to decorate his home, and it was no secret Damon was proud of his home.

Now, while the vampire wanted—more than anything—to take her upstairs and, for lack of a better term, get down to _business_ straight away, Elena was practically shaking like a doe. Still grasping her hand, he led her over to the sofa, motioning for her to sit before he moved to grab two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. He comes to sit beside her, handing her a crystal glass before filling it with a very small amount of bourbon—but even when she had finished sipping down the burning liquid, scowling the entire time at the taste, he could still see she was borderline terrified.

"Are you scared, Elena? Are you scared of me?" he cooed, setting his glass down to shift closer to her on the couch, raising a hand to stroke her cheek tenderly. She flinched and tried to move away but his free hand reached out to abruptly grasp her knee, and the warning in his azure hues was as clear as a neon sign: _don't move_. His hand moved cautiously to take her glass from her, placing it beside his on the coffee table in front of them.

His touch shifted, the fingers poised at her cheek moving to slide to the nape of her neck, thumb stroking the skin behind her ear. His free hand moved to clasp her inner thigh, but did not move, his eyes boring into hers. It made her heart race, eyes almost forced to shift down in submission to his obvious power. It radiated off him—his power over her, his power over _everyone_ who approached him; he was utterly intimidating.

"Elena," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear in order to gain her attention, "answer me."

Licking her lips, she kept her eyes down, watching the hand on her thigh.

"Do you really expect me to relax?" she whispered. "Of course I'm scared."

He grinned softly, and he begun to press cajoling kisses around her ear that made her tremble—with fear? She wasn't so sure as his hand moved up her thigh, pausing at a safe distance from her apex. Her body immediately felt much too hot.

"Do you really believe I'd kill you? What use would you be to me _dead_?" he purred, and she felt his tongue tracing a vein on the side of her throat, and she let out a shaky breath, slowly turning so they were eye to eye. Her eyes bored into obsidian pits of desire; she was staring into the eyes of a hungry monster—a monster that was hungry for _her_ in more than one way.

And just like the monster he was, his neck snapped out like a snake's, capturing her lips in a kiss consisting of teeth and tongue. She tried to pull back, to retreat from the overwhelming heat consuming her body, but his hand raised to cup the back of her head, forcing her surrender to the passionate rhythm of his tongue against hers. Grasping her hands, he coaxes her arms around his neck before the world begins to spin around her, leaving her slightly winded as her back abruptly hits a soft, silk-covered surface.

Bourbon eyes fly open to meet the dark, predatory eyes of Damon Salvatore, who was pinning her down to his bed. The room was large, and nothing like Elena would have expected, and yet it matched the history and personality of the house just as she _should_ have expected. She was currently lying on a king sized four poster bed, pushed up against the same wooden walls that lined every wall in this house. The sheets beneath her were soft and red, but not silk.

She didn't get a chance to ogle the rest of his room, because her eyes snapped shut and her body bowed off the bed as he nipped harshly on the center of her throat, demanding her attention and sending a bolt of arousal through her body. Her heart was pounding; she should be afraid, she should be pushing him away.

_Push him away. Push him away. Push him away. Push him away._

His mouth wandered up her neck, in attempts to reclaim her mouth, before he felt her small hands pushing down on his wide shoulders. A low, threatening growl reverberated through his chest and he pushed against her hands until lips crashed against hers. He felt her strength dissolve, and her hands dropped to his chest, admiring the rippling muscles beneath the soft fabric.

She was in the midst of a summer haze, surrounded by Egyptian cotton and the dark entity that was Damon. It all made her dizzy, and the world began to numb around her as her body reached a plethora of pleasures and fears, all blending into one unknown emotion that made her tremble vigorously.

Seconds—that's the amount of time it took Damon to rip apart any article of clothing on either of their bodies. Even among her disoriented state, Elena could appreciate Damon's obviously impressive physique. Porcelain flesh wrapped around a muscular chest and chiseled stomach. Her doe gaze slowly followed the dip in his hips to the throbbing cock he held in his hand, stroking lazily as he teased her slit.

Her eyes moved to meet his; bourbon hues met wide, wild orbs, and before she could think anything of it, she reached up, tangling a hand in his hair, pulling his mouth down against hers.

With a low groan spilling into her mouth, Damon's hips surged forward, and he entered her in one swift thrust, causing Elena to erupt in screams. He didn't pause, he didn't even begin slow to allow her walls to adjust. He plowed into her extremely tight fit, eyes clenched shut as he moved furiously against her.

"So fucking tight," he hissed out between his teeth, his hands grasping hers, pinning them down against the mattress. Her legs were wrapped like a vice around his waist, cries spilling from her lips in undeniable pleasure. So young and so innocent, it was so easy to bring Elena to the edge of her climax. Shifting his angle so his cock brushed against her clit with every stroke, he slammed into her over and over again, and just as she fell off the edge, his fangs sunk into her neck.

A scream ripped through his room, ringing in his ears. Her screams, mixed with the taste of her blood and the feel of her tight walls clenching around him, caused him to spiral in his own orgasm, spilling inside her.

He continued drinking, lazily consuming mouthful after mouthful of her sweet essence. Before he took too much, he pulled back, his mouth stained with her ruby blood, and eyes red and monstrous. He looked down into wide, bewildered eyes, and he knew she was second from running. His eyes connected with hers, and he spoke in a soft, silken tone.

"Sleep, pet," he purred, and she immediately obeyed as he reigned bloody kisses over the side of her face. "You'll need your strength."

Oh yes; God have mercy on the soul of Elena Gilbert—who was oblivious to the trap she had walked into.

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**author's note ;** review and tell me you're still here -


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